Amish Vampires in Space (10 page)

Jeb shook his head. “
All
the crops. They’ve been suffering for years. We knew it.” He pointed around the table. “You all knew it, but nothing was said. Nothing done.”

“What could we do?” Samuel asked. “Relocate? It took decades of toil just to subdue this area. To build our homes.” He hunched over the table, squeezed his hands together. “It isn’t much talked about, but I know how it was. This world was little more than a blank slate when we arrived. Arable land, blue skies and water—but little else. The forests were minuscule compared to what we have today. There was barely enough wood for houses and barns.”

“Let’s not be negative. We could do it again,” Mark said. “Working together. We’d just load up the wagons and go west or north until the growing is better.”

Jeb stared at the table. “No,” he said. “That wouldn’t help.”

Mark’s eyes widened. “Why not?”

“Because it is the sun that’s wrong. We can’t outrun the sun.”

“What?” Ezekiel said. “What is wrong with it?”

Jeb shook his head. “It is changing. The things that compose it are changing. I have this piece of glass, a prism. Using it, I can split the sun’s light. See the individual elements that compose it. Those are changing.”

Looks of consternation. “How is that possible?”

“Our sun?”

“So that’s why the crops—”

Jeb nodded. “Yes. The light quality is changing. We knew that, though. You could see it.”

“So this machine of yours,” Mark said, “it can fix it somehow? The sun?”

Samuel scowled. “Derr Herr made the sun. How can man fix it?”

Jeb took a deep breath. Let it out. “I don’t know. I hope the device helps. But I don’t know.”

“So you don’t know what it does?” Samuel said. “This secret that has been kept for two generations. And you don’t know what will happen.”

Jebediah forced a smile. “That’s right. I don’t know.”

“It may not do anything,” James said, smiling. “Not a single thing.”

“It lit up,” Ezekiel said. “It made lots of noise.”

“So what do we do?” Mark asked. “Wait?”

“As always, we trust in the Lord,” Jeb said. “And pray.”

• • •

Congi was in a hurry. There was a new shipment coming in, and the rumor was that it contained people this time. Lots of people. And farm animals. There wouldn’t be any
finding
in that.

Plus, the duty roster showed he was going to be reassigned—away from all the important bays. His duty would be to clean Bay 17, the very place that was going to house all those new people. And their smelly animals. He didn’t like smelly.

He’d been watching Bay 16 for days now. Waiting for any opportunity to go inside. Greels was the problem. The guy seemed to always be there. That only fueled Congi’s suspicion. There must be something
really
good in there if the loading supervisor wanted to protect it so. He was up to something. Keeping something to himself.

Finally, Congi had a notion. He remembered that Mart in security had access to some of the passkey logs. So he paid Mart a visit. It cost Congi a lot, more than he wanted to give, but he got what he was after. The assurance that Mart would buzz him when Bay 16 was free of people.

Five minutes ago, Congi got the buzz.

Now he stood inside Bay 16, cleaning rack at his side. The lights were at half potential. Bright enough to work by but still dim. That felt more comfortable somehow.

In front of him was the package in question. The failed science one. The remains of an accident or something? Regardless, it was a very large cube. Lots of potential. If it were placed in a house, it would fill an entire room. It also appeared to be perfectly sealed. Not a scrape or bump anywhere. White and wrapped tight. Smooth, smooth, and smooth.

Normally, he would give it a thorough going over. Size it up from top to bottom and find the weakness. There was
always
a weakness. Expose it, find things, and reseal it again like new. That was his way of operating.

Congi laid a hand on the package’s side. It felt oddly cool. As if a refrigeration unit had cracked and was leaking coolant inside. He’d have to be careful of that.

There were two problems with his normal methodology, in this case. One, the front and back of the package were almost obscured, inaccessible, due to the packages around it. He could attempt to climb atop the smaller package in front, but that would be hard work and might require he stand on his rack. Never safe. So he was left with only two sides he could fully inspect.

The big problem, though, was time. He didn’t have enough of it for any large operations. Or for being subtle. Greels could return at any moment.

Scowling, Congi bent over his rack. He pulled out two instruments. The first was flat, rectangular, mostly transparent, and fit easily between forefinger and thumb. The other looked like a small blue plate with a raised handle portion on one side.

He placed the rectangle, a “peeper” as it was known in the trade, on the leftmost portion of the package’s side at waist level. He moved it slowly over the surface of the package, watching the transparent section. The peeper wouldn’t let him see the exact contents of the package, unfortunately. What it did provide was space measurements. Essentially, it told him how things were packed within.

He was searching for a spot that was “emptier.” A place where he could safely cut through. His first pass didn’t find him anything. Whatever was inside was pressed tightly against the side. Not good. He made another pass a little lower and got the same result. Everything packed tight.

For a package that large, it might be necessary to not only see inside but to climb inside.

Congi shook his head, checked his com device. No calls from Mart yet. That was good. Mart was watching the passkey scanners. If anyone, Greels especially, started heading this direction, Congi would be notified, forced to flee.

A rush! He didn’t like to rush.

Congi jogged around to the other side of the package. He couldn’t help casting a look toward the bay’s door along the way. Even though it was fully shut, it made him nervous. On this side of the package, his actions would be exposed to anyone who entered.

He stooped and placed the peeper on the package about a meter from the floor. Right away, the screen flashed, indicating an open space beyond of about a meter and a half. Congi smiled and brought up the circular tool—a small but precise molecular cutter. It would not only sever the package wall, it would cut along molecular lines, saving details as it did so. It made a perfect reseal possible afterward. A wonderful, necessary finder tool.

Congi pressed a button in the handle, and a light near his thumb flashed green. He made another quick pass with the peeper to make sure he knew the location of the open space and its extent in all directions. Satisfied, he placed the molecutter on the package and began cutting. Within minutes, he had a nice round hole large enough that he could fit his head and shoulders through.

He hurried to his rack and pushed it in front of the hole. He returned the peeper and the cutter and brought out a flashlight. Stooped and shined it into the hole.

It felt like opening an ancient tomb. Congi could see shelving inside with lots of secured items. Items that reflected the light. Things made of metals and translucent materials. Probably something in here for Danielle’s nephew—and for himself, maybe. And that was only what he could see directly ahead. To the right was a separate section, almost like another chamber. He could glimpse some large floor-standing machines there.

He wished he didn’t have to be so quick. Wished he had more time. But that was the life of a finder.

He gathered a bag and a pair of gloves and pushed inside.

• • •

The Other noticed someone nearby. It detected the activity and the slight change in ambient temperature. It had been waiting, confined, for what seemed a very long time. Fortunately, it had eaten well before it had been imprisoned. It could survive for years in its present state. Decades.

But it didn’t want to just survive. Survival was a goal for baser things. For the things that crept, swam, and jumped. It was not those. Not anymore.

Over the course of days, the Other had been given reason to hope. To expect. First, there had been movement, and at brief intervals, light. There had been visits. Regular visits. The Other felt those visits. Reveled in them.

But always the entity was out of reach. Always too far.

There was a new hope here. Closer. A new visitor. One perhaps not so careful. Perhaps not so reserved. It would woo him. Call him.

Then it would have him.

• • •

Congi crawled completely into the package, and sat hunched within. It was a tight fit that made him wish he’d skipped a few meals along the way. There was nothing for that now, though. Space was generally boring, delivery trips, generally long, and food was easy to come by.

He checked his com device for messages. No messages yet. He had more time.

He sat for a moment and tried to size it all up. Scattered about the “floor” were some loose materials—awkwardly folded paper and some white cards. The latter, he realized, were actually memory storage devices. Part of a filing system of some sort. He picked one up, touched the activation spot on the surface. Nothing happened. Broken or underpowered. He tried another. The screen on this one lit, but it was filled with complicated text and no pictures. Science lingo. Talk of trans-this, and splicing that. Formulas. Meaningless. He frowned and cast it aside.

Directly in front of him were two white cabinets of some sort. Both had doors. Unfortunately, unless the doors slid, they would be difficult to open. The cabinets were packed face to face and there was little room between them. He managed to wedge a hand in, but he wasn’t able to make the doors budge. Frowned.

Smaller objects were preferable. Things he could easily bag, carry, and sell.

Overhead was the bottom of another cabinet or a table or something. There was nothing but smooth surface there and it extended a long way to his right, back toward the package’s other end. It was confining.

The remaining contents were packed in such a way that only a narrow crawlspace was available from where he sat to a deeper portion. The portion that had looked like a secondary chamber was, he saw now, just a continuation of this space.

Aren’t there any small boxes here? Something I can just put a hand into?

Congi frowned. Shook his head. Shined the light on the crawlway again.

It looked really tight. If he tried to go that way, he might even get stuck. At the very least, it would be difficult to make a quick exit. He contemplated giving up, calling it a night. There would be other packages besides this one. Maybe the people they were rescuing would have things other than ponies and quilts.

He felt a surge of anger. Anger at the trouble he’d gone to. The stuff he’d given Mart just to get this far. And at Greels for making it all so difficult.

No. He was going ahead. Take it and bet it. He would find something.

He got on all fours, grunting at how uncomfortable it felt. He crawled ahead a few paces, until he reached a place where a metal rod stretched low in front of him. No matter how hard he pushed, the rod wouldn’t budge. He would have to stoop lower.

He felt a stab of fear. He wasn’t afraid of confined places, obviously, but this was getting ridiculous. What if he got stuck? What if he was found? Worse, what if he got stuck and was never found?

He shook his head. No, you’ll be fine. He felt a blast of courage, almost as if someone was patting him on the back, urging him ahead. Just press on. What you want is here.

Congi nodded and lowered to his belly. He could make it if he just slid through. He heard some of the memory cards flick across the floor as he moved his feet. Felt one of them dig into his knee. He winced and pushed with his toes.

His midsection moved. The items on his right and left budged slightly. Enough to give him more room. He slid forward. Finally broke through to a larger area, a place where nothing pushed against his back. He brought his legs through and pulled them underneath him. Even managed to sit up. He shined the light around. To his right was a piece of black machinery. It had wide feet and dark legs. Above that, it seemed to bend and swirl. It reminded him of tightly wound piping or an exotic musical instrument. Doubtless expensive, but much too large to move.

To the left of that was a transparent case of some sort. It stood on four legs and there were cardboard boxes stuffed into the legs to fill the space. Those boxes weren’t sealed, and they appeared to be within reach. He also saw what he thought was a small refrigeration device. The door stood slightly ajar. Doubtless the source of the package’s external coldness.

There were other devices here too, colored silver and bronze. Corgi noticed black streaks on some of those. There were also streaks on the floor and on a few of the wrapped items. Something had caught on fire. He also saw obvious water stains. Something had spilled too.

The place was a mess. No wonder they got shut down. Packaged up. Probably run by incompetents. Government grant freeloaders.

Congi scooted forward and checked the boxes. He found books in one. He felt lots of ambiguous shapes in the other. He managed to bring one of the smaller shapes out and shine his light on it. It was a popular brand of holographic entertainment device. He smiled and slid that into his bag. Kept digging. He found two similar devices and pocketed those too.

A portion of the floor near the refrigeration unit was damp. Because of this, the third box was soggy.

Who packed this? he wondered. Greels would skin them. Such potential loss.

He slid forward a bit more, trying to put himself within reach of that third box. He noticed for the first time a terrible smell. Like something had gotten into the package and died. Something large. The smell was part rotten eggs, part animal carcass. He fanned his face, but that didn’t help much. He fought off a feeling of sickness.